


Vacation

by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Common Cold, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Pack Vacation, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Skiing, author knows nothing about skiing, well I know how to fall forward while attempting to ski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21966814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/pseuds/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving
Summary: Stiles is going to blame Lydia for this.Lydia graciously doesn't lord it over him.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 178
Collections: The Sterek Secret Santa - Edition 2019





	Vacation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hi0ctane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hi0ctane/gifts).



> Made for the stereksecretsanta as a gift for hi0ctane. I hope you, and everybody else will enjoy this little thing.
> 
> Comments and kudos are encouraged. If I forgot to tag something let me know and I'll add it

Stiles was going to blame the whole thing on Lydia, seeing as it had been her idea entirely that had brought them here.

‘Here’ being a medium cabin at a popular ski resort, the one furthest away from the main lodge and the pistes, and where Stiles had had to endure not only sharing a room with one broody alpha (hardly a hardship, but Lydia couldn't hear his heart skip at the lie) but also being the only one in a group of (supernaturally) agile people with two left feet. Skiing most definitely wasn’t Stiles’ sport.

Stiles had read up on it, watched a bunch of videos, listened to everybody he knew who’d ever been near a pair of skis, and when they’d arrived and the entire pack had gone straight towards the most difficult pistes, Stiles had carefully put on his boots before strapping them to the skis and then made his way to the piste reserved for kids. It had been fun - at least for the first fifty feet or so, where he gracefully made his way downward, wind in his hair and the soft ‘wush’ of the skis against the snow; then the front end of either ski had begun pointing inwards and before Stiles had even realized he’d tripped over his own feet as per usual.

Now, Stiles has a stubborn streak a mile long. It has gotten him into trouble nearly as often as it has saved both his and his friends’ lives; it’s what made him double major and finish in three years (along with copious amounts of coffee and various pack members stopping by occasionally, making sure he remembered to eat); and it’s what makes him trip his way down the piste before getting back up and try once more, again and again. Nobody’s going to be able to say Stiles Stilinski was defeated by the kiddie piste.

For the entirety of the first day Stiles had gone from top to bottom of the trail more times than he’d cared to count and never once had he managed to even get halfway down before tripping, one ski somehow ending up under the other no matter what he did (and he even resorted to asking some of the kids gracefully skiing down for pointers).

He’s just gotten back on his feet for the umpteenth time when looking around Stiles realizes he’s nearly the only one left not to mention the way darkness is creeping across the sky. He’s wet and cold - falling head first into the snow repeatedly means quite a bit of it has made its way between the folds of his scarf and down his neck, not to mention the legs of his pants from the knee down are nearly soaked through as well as his gloves being rather damp, leaving his hands and fingers numb from the cold.  
Annoyed with his lack of progress, Stiles makes it back to the cabin at the same time as the rest of the pack; they shower, get dressed and then make their wa to the main lodge for dinner.

Stiles’ bad mood soon dissipates surrounded by his pack, the sting of his wounded pride forgotten at the tale of Scott - like a character in a cartoon - heading straight towards a tree, getting his feet on either side of it and going face first in the trunk. The whole table laughs, Isaac kisses his cheek and Allison dimples at him when Scott pouts just as dinner’s served. Silence falls over the table for a few minutes while they taste their food and when conversation picks up again nobody talks about skiing.

It’s late when they make their way back to the cabin, saying their goodnights and disappearing into their rooms. Stiles gets out of his clothes and into his pyjamas before he even remembers he’s not alone; he’s out cold before he can worry about it, never noticing the two red pinpricks watching him for a while.

~

The next morning Stiles wakes with a congested nose; getting up, showered and dressed makes air flow freely once more and so it gets pushed to the back of his mind to be forgotten in favor of the sight of a shirtless, bed-haired Derek chopping vegetables to the omelettes Boyd are making.  
Getting Deaton to teach him that scent suppressing spell had been worth all the nerve grating mysteriousness the vet seemed to exude.

Except Derek none of the pack are morning people, so breakfast is definitely a quieter affair than dinner had been. However, as the food’s eaten and the coffee’s drunk, conversation grow louder and livelier and then they clean up the mess before getting their now dry ski clothes and get ready for the day.

Lydia and Allison stay behind with Stiles while the ‘wolves head off towards the most difficult piste - Jackson loudly suggesting going off-piste though he’s ignored by the others. When they’re out of sight Lydia suggests going to the lodge to see when the instructor’s free; Stiles mentally facepalms that he didn’t think of this, Allison and Lydia grinning and linking their arms with his, dragging him towards the lodge.

There’s a short wait, the three of them killing time with hot tea, enjoying the spectacular view and talking. A staff member is kind enough to remind them it’s time for their lesson and they make their way to the back of the lodge where a man begins with taking them through the equipment. Which turns out to be the only thing Stiles is any good at.  
He ends the day nearly as wet and cold as the day before, but at least he’s had company and Lydia and Allison to pull him from his thoughts when he got angry at his feet for being uncooperative.

Being the first ones back at the cabin the three humans changes into dry, warm clothes before starting dinner, none of them in the mood to go outside again. As it darkens outside the ‘wolves soon show up, they, too, changing into dry clothes and then offering to help with whatever’s left to be done.

When they’ve eaten and done the dishes they get out cards and other games, Isaac and Jackson making hot cocoa for the entire pack. Once more it’s late before they all get to bed, Stiles out like a light before he’s barely hit the pillow.

It’s the snoring that wakes him. The sun’s shining through the window and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead; opening his eyes is remarkably difficult, the lashes clumped with sleep and feeling like they weigh hundreds of pounds. His throat is sore, right arm freezing where it’s escaped the covers and with how congested his nose is - so much worse than yesterday - it’s reasonable to assume the person snoring was himself. Stiles slowly turns his head and confirms the theory when he sees the empty bed.

It feels like he’s floating in and out of consciousness for a while before he feels awake enough to get up. The covers are heavy but he manages to get out from beneath them, the floor cold on his bare feet. Stiles is reaching for the door handle when the door opens to reveal Derek with a steaming mug in one hand and a book in the other.

Derek scowls - eyebrows set to ‘worried’ as far as Stiles can see through his teary eyes - bends and with empty hands turn Stiles around and lead him back to bed, down under the covers. Back to the door where he’d apparently sat the mug and then back to the bed, carefully helping Stiles to drink the honey sweetened tea. He falls asleep halfway through.

He spends the day in bed. Sometimes asleep though mostly awake, Derek a quiet presence where he slowly leafs through whatever book he’s reading while Stiles surfs the net and watches whatever looks interesting on netflix; as needed Derek brings him tea and food and tissues to blow his nose in. It’s nice in a way Stiles had never imagined.  
It’s still light outside when he hears the pack get back, and only a few minutes later Scott’s head peaks around the door frame, a huge smile on his face when he sees Stiles is awake; something he lets the others know by yelling and then getting in the bed with him. Scott’s cold from being outside while still being warmer than a regular human and Stiles - currently freezing - moves closer, mindful of the just-made cup of tea Derek had gotten him, the man in question quietly slipping out the room now Stiles isn’t alone.

Stiles declines dinner, the pack gathering around his bed, Derek handing him a fresh mug of honey sweet tea before sitting down on his own bed with a plate of food. The pack tells them what they’ve been doing (skiing of course, though Allison had briefly tried snowboarding). When they’re done eating they play a few rounds of uno, Stiles sleepily nodding off while the ‘wolves grow more and more restless as the full moon rises above the treetops. The last thing he’s aware of is Scott carefully tucking him followed by wolfhowls echoing through the air following him into his dreams.

~

It’s hot and there’s someone - something - in his bed. Stiles opens his eyes and is met with darkness, turning his head and sneezing when something soft tickles his face. Reaching his hand lands on a pointed ear, fingers slipping through fur unconsciously petting along a long spine, broad sweeps over an expanding middle. His bed partner snorts and sticks his cold, wet nose in Stiles’ face, huge body maneuvering to get under his arm and closer to him; every ache left behind by the cold leeched off, his breath coming easier where the heat seems to combat the congestion.

The moon peeks out from between dark skies - still hanging massive and round above the trees - and Stiles thinks it means something that Derek is here rather than running through the woods, wonders at the significance of lying next to him in wolf form. Predictably there’s no answer when he asks, except for Derek licking once from chin to cheekbone and then pointedly pretending to fall asleep. Stiles grins, wraps his arms around the ‘wolf and falls into a dreamless sleep.

Eventually they talk; after Stiles has pestered Deaton into giving some straight answers and Derek has handed him an old book filled with descriptions of rituals and traditions passed down from Hale to Hale. Stiles reads it from cover to cover and then he reads it again. After his third read through he gets in the jeep and heads towards Derek’s loft. Once there he places the book on the table in front of Derek and takes the chair opposite him, looks him in the eyes accepts the possibility of forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I take title suggestions


End file.
